


Just ask... and you shall be given. Seriously, just ask.

by Kare



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky also wants Steve, Bucky wants things, Fluff, Freeform, I promise, I want my idiots to be happy, M/M, Nat is fed up with them, don' tell them, fluffety fluff, happy end, steve is an idiot, they are both huge saps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 17:20:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14753090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kare/pseuds/Kare
Summary: The one in which Steve and Bucky get together, because of a misunderstanding, handwritten notes, a 'free-hugs' shirt and a not so secretly hidden condom.





	Just ask... and you shall be given. Seriously, just ask.

There are things they don’t talk about anymore.  
  
That one week were Steve was sure he had found a draft… an unsend draft of a love letter… a draft of a love letter for Natasha… written by Bucky?  
  
That’s on said list.  
  
They don’t talk about the way Steve left the two of them alone every chance he got… even in his own flat.  
  
About the way Bucky kept eyeing the door like an abandoned puppy waiting for his human… like a cranky abandoned puppy, to be more precise.  
  
About the 37 punching bags Steve shredded in remarkably short succession.  
  
Or the quiet spectacular conversation that went down between Steve and Natasha, after she finally snapped.  
  
(Seeing someone new or why am I stuck with babysitting duties?  
  
He likes you, too.  
  
Cut the crap, Rogers.  
  
I'm just not…  
  
Gay?  
  
I'm not the one that who would make him happy, Nat… don’t look like that. He is bad at asking for things. You are good at reading people. You two are bound to figure it out… don’t look at me like that…)  
  
Bucky’s on-point input into that conversation  
  
(even while still in the middle of skimming said letter that was very much not written by him: you hate it when I call you Natalia)  
  
… or the fact that Clint spend the better part of a week in an apron and very little else.  
  
They are not talking about that.  
  
Or the fact that Natasha ordered Steve and Bucky out of the house and into some sushi restaurant… where they ever so tentatively agreed that just maybe that had not gone as planned.  
  
And things could have gone back to normal.  
  
_Could_ have gone.  
  
Which is another one of the things that they are not talking about.  
  
Because one of the more sensible rants on Natasha's side (or at least the one shortest on thinly veiled death threads) included a hint to Bucky to start writing post-it’s to Steve. Just because written words seemed to go so well…  
  
(…Nat will forever deny that she might have been pacified by Steve’s way too earnest “He deserves to be happy. I mean, I would like to spend more time with the person I love, regardless of the outcome, so…” … that had absolutely nothing to do with that… don’t even think about fighting her on that one…)  
  
…and Bucky for a change even listened.  
  
Spending a few decades as a brainwashed assassin for the Soviets had pulled a number on him… or even two.  
  
He was good at fending for himself.  
  
Asking?  
  
Even asking his self proclaimed best friend to never ever do something as stupid as cutting himself out of Bucky’s life because it might seem like a valid choice at the time?  
  
…  
  
Not really on the table.  
  
But a small cream colored piece of paper?  
  
Hardly bigger than a palm?  
  
And Bucky’s best handwriting?  
  
“Next time you stop at the bakery, would you get me a piece of strawberry pie?”  
  
Bucky ignored how very obviously those words had been erased and rewritten time and again.  
  
Or that slipping them into Steve’s jacket might mean that Steve never technically ever read…  
  
Or that there was no real reason why Steve would…  
  
…but he hadn't _said_ anything. A paper with his hand writing had fooled Steve before. If things really went to hell he could always de…ny…  
  
…of course Steve got him the piece of strawberry pie.  
  
Individually packed and handed over in person with that smile…  
  
…and a wink…  
  
…and for a moment Bucky could not even believe his own luck.  
  
This had worked.  
  
Like a charm.  
  
Of course he tried it again.  
  
Not right away.  
  
But a request to watch that Peter Pan retelling… together…? … just because none of the others would? (A quiet evening was hard to come by, but yes, they had. And grown men don’t get teary eyed at Hook. So don’t tell them.)  
  
A question if those lemon drops were still around? (Sorry, no, but these particular new ones are pretty good.)  
  
A walk in the park. (Duh.)  
  
Can I borrow one of your sweaters? (He had gotten two. One still smelling of Steve and a brand new one… Steve had only gotten the brand new one back… another one of the things not mentioned.)  
  
And no, no one is allowed to comment on the sappiness factor of getting up at five just so Steve can have a freshly brewed coffee in a well isolated thermo mug… (Bucky would deny it anyway. He did the sensible thing after: falling back into bed. Steve was the insane one who wanted to go running before six in the morning. And no, just because there was Bucky’s hand writing on a good morning note, it did not really mean you were allowed to jump to conclusions either… unless you were Steve… but…)  
  
(No, Bucky was also not stupid enough to take up Nat on a bet about whether or not Steve had kept Bucky's notes. Or whether or not they could still be put into one shoe box or if by now Steve needed two…)  
  
And so things progressed.  
  
Bucky was the last one who would ever comment on Steve's new found tendency to check his pockets. Or his wallet. Or even his jeans.  
  
Because things were going fine.  
  
That shirt that stated “free hugs” on the front?  
  
Only half an accident. Because if Bucky had ever thought about it he would have fretted too much to put it on… but… the results were spectacular.  
  
Steve, quiet frankly, had refused to let him out of the house in that one…  
  
(“Why?” “People might take you up on it.” “And?” “I am not supposed to allow you to murder the ones you don’t like.”)  
  
…while ever so tentatively wrapping his arms around Bucky.  
  
(“You still got plans for today?” “No.” “Good.”)  
  
(Grown men don’t time their hugs. So, no, Bucky had no way of knowing that they had spend 18 minutes and 14 seconds embracing each other in a drafty hallway. Thank you very much.)  
  
(And of course Bucky was already planning to do that again.)  
  
And one could get used to that.  
  
One could so very easily get used to that.  
  
And just maybe, in those moments when James was feeling optimistic… (or when Natasha was calling him an idiot again…) he was hoping that just maybe he and Steve might have something more.  
  
Something a bit… just more.  
  
Bucky did not really want to contemplate just when he had acquired the skill to sneak a condom into Steve’s wallet in 3 seconds flat.  
  
And just this once Bucky had been prepared to accept silence.  
  
To overlook if this got never brought up again…  
  
…and for an evening out things were remarkable quiet.  
  
Those were his own nerves drumming.  
  
Because Bucky just knew that somewhere between tipping for the drinks and flagging for a taxi, Steve most definitely had taken a look.  
  
Still being allowed into Steve’s apartment was a good sign.  
  
Till the moment only two steps behind the door, when Bucky just knew Steve was about so say something stupid.  
  
It was desperation, sheer and simple, that allowed him to lung himself forward and kiss the living daylight out of Steve.  
  
And as good as it felt and as good as those hands on his back felt and as good as another person's body heat felt…  
  
Bucky knew he had messed up the second Steve ever so subtly tried to push him back.  
  
While Steve still did see some humor in this (So you weren’t trying to set me up with a waiter.), his face said all too clearly that he thought this was a horrible idea.  
  
And with a sinking feeling Bucky realized that just maybe this actually was.  
  
And he wants to argue, to bargain, to salvage whatever he can…  
  
So he mentally runs through Steve’s argument three times (You know you can have everything, Bucky. Everything you want. But I am not… I can’t, Bucky. I am not the kind of guy who can wake up tomorrow and pretend this never happened…) before he settles on an answer:  
  
“We are dancing around this since more than 70 years, Rogers. If I had an itch to scratch, I’d scratch it elsewhere.”  
  
And it is crude. And just maybe even angry. And it does get Steve’s attention.  
  
And Bucky doesn’t think he ever heard anything as broken as Steve confessing that he can’t lose Bucky. ('Not even over this.')  
  
And Bucky realizes that he needs to get it right. Just once. Once might be more than enough. Because it is Steve’s choice, too.  
  
So… a not exactly warm nose, outlining the contour of Steve’s jaw… his good hand feeling for the barest hint of stubbles… his lips pressing against Steve's temple, hindered by the fact that Stevie had grown a bit since the 40s…  
  
And Bucky’s voice doesn’t raise above a whisper.  
  
“Am I _allowed_ to get used to that?”  
  
And he can see it. The battle Steve fights within himself. It does take a good 4 seconds. (And it ends with a strangled “Yes.”)  
  
And this time Bucky was the one to be embraced, held, almost cradled, being kissed like Steve wanted to mark his soul that way.  
  
And it would do. If Steve continued to kiss him like he was sampling honey… this would do forever.  
  
Of course the big oaf could not leave things well enough alone.  
  
“I don’t share.”  
  
And just for a moment Steve looked as surprised at his own words as Bucky felt. “So… no running of with Stark junior for you?”  
  
The wrinkling of Steve’s nose said a lot of the things he himself sidestepped. “Actually, I was thinking about you and Nat.”  
  
“We’re at our best when we are trying to kill each other. I really don’t think that’s on the table.”  
  
“So…”  
  
“It’s called mutually exclusive these days… I mean… if this is… what you… want?”  
  
And even in the half light Bucky could see Steve’s pupils expanding even more. “Yes… God, _yes_.”  
  
And Steve could have ignited galaxies with that smile.  
  
Bucky had planned neither for being picked up nor for being whirled around. They rearranged half of Steve’s hall that way. And while Bucky would normally panic at making a mess, he found that he could not help the laughter pressing out of him.  
  
It was so seldom that Steve allowed himself to show his emotions.  
  
They had most definitely done something right.  
  
Bucky tried to get back to the kissing. While Steve mainly tried to move them elsewhere. (And while Bucky was very much on board with that, he didn’t really feel like he needed to be _helpful_ .)  
  
In the end Steve let himself fall back onto the living room couch, letting Bucky land right on his lap, his legs on either side of Steve’s… it might not be the stop Bucky would have aimed for. But since it made for perfect access to Steve’s neck and since Steve may or may not make a whining voice when ever Bucky’s lips tried to pinch the skin there…  
  
Though that idiot sounds way too composed when he asks almost casual “Just what did you intend to do with that condom?”  
  
And for a moment Bucky can feel his brain freeze. “You… do… understand… I mean…”  
  
And Steve ever so unfairly pinches his side. “I do know about the birds and bees.” (That glare might even be cute… any other day.) “Just… from where I am sitting, we are two healthy guys. As far as I know we both are clean.” (Bucky had the good sense to nod to that.) “And we have two hands each and a mouth that can be used for more then just sassing. And I don’t see a reason to get up anytime soon.”  
  
And Bucky already knows where this is going. Steve will make him wait, just to ensure that he will be still around later… so… “Do you still hog the blanket?” (Hint. Hint.)  
  
“Maybe. But beds have gotten decidedly bigger. And you can have as many of those toasty couch blankets as you want.” (Like Steve will really allow him to move as much as an inch away once they start to fall asleep.)  
  
“Don’t even pretend that you will not try to cuddle me to death the first chance you get.”  
  
“You are a super soldier. You can withstand some cuddling.” (And Steve is already putting that one to the test.)  
  
“Just for the records, I am not going to turn into an early bird. I am an old man who needs his sleep. And normal, human hours. So no _cuddling_ before jogging.”  
  
“If you know when you usually wake we can try that after. I heard good things about showers and…”  
  
“Don’t do that to me, Rogers. Seriously. We just discovered that you recognize condoms…”  
  
“And you still haven’t answered. What do you want to do with that one?”  
  
And Bucky is picking up on something else. “What would _you_ want to do with that one?”  
  
And there is something in the way the tips of Steve’s ears decidedly heat up, that mean… yes… there is something. (Even if it means that Bucky has to figure out how to stop Steve from derailing conversations with overly drawn out kisses.)  
  
(That is the part where Steve finds out that grinding up is an even better distraction. And Bucky had not really planned on stopping Steve doing that either…)  
  
“Come on, Stevie. (The way Bucky bites his own lip has gotten him places.) You know all the things you would usually tell me. It does not have to be today. Or tomorrow. Or the first thing the day after. (Kiss) Tell me what you want. (And just the slightest forward press of Bucky’s pelvis. Because Steve isn’t the only one who can fight dirty.) It’s no fun if we aren’t in this together.”  
  
And it does take Steve a moment to recall forming words… or to focus those incredibly huge eyes.  
  
“What if I want you inside me?” (The way Steve bites his lip isn’t without some appeal either.) And before the silence even has a chance to stretch too long. “Would that be too greedy?”  
  
“Greedy…” Bucky feels like he might need a Thesaurus. “That’s not how I would phrase…”  
  
Did Steve really just ask if it would be okay… if…   
  
Bucky can’t help his own wonder. “Is this my life now?”  
  
“Am I already scaring you away?”  
  
And Bucky can feel how Steve would let him get away. How he relaxes his arms, just in case Bucky would want to get…  
  
“Don’t you even dare.” (Bucky would pick a later date to figure that ordering is not the same as asking, either.) “I can be pacified with coffee… at least I think I can… it sure looks like I will need it…”  
  
“Now?”  
  
“I was thinking more about the time between your morning jog and our shower.”  
  
And Steve smiles at that.  
  
Making plans is always a good sign.  
  
(Steve’s plans for the foreseeable future seem to involve kissing.)  
  
(Not that Bucky minds.)  
  
(But sometimes teasing Steve is just too much fun.)  
  
“So, tell me Stevie, what other ideas are running around in that brain of yours?”  
  
Well… the old Bucky did have a few favorite spots.  
  
(Bucky does have a very vague recollection that he might have said something about this as a way of flirting… back in the days…)  
  
(And now really isn’t the time to wonder just what it does say that a smaller Steve found it important enough to remember that.)  
  
The feeling in his left shoulder is shot to pieces.  
  
But letting Steve lick his right collar bone might actually be going places.  
  
Bucky has absolutely no idea why Steve would suggest licking the hollow of Bucky's knee. (But they are finally moving this towards a bed, so Bucky really isn’t complaining.)  
  
(Also, it turns out that Steve has a thing for carrying Bucky. Those hands on his ass are something else to get used to.)  
  
Steve’s tongue felt foreign, a bit ticklish, almost like an invitation for fight-or-flight… and yet…

Steve does find a few adequate _distractions_.

And maybe this way he even takes Bucky's brain offline for a bit.  
  
(And that idiot had been right after all. They had not needed a condom for that…  
  
…clean bed sheets might be appreciated, though.)

**Author's Note:**

> So... this was based on a prompt. I can't be trusted with prompts. I have a tendency to mess them up. The basic idea was that A finds a love letter that seems to be written by B and is adressed to C. Despite the fact that A and B secretly like each other, A does the noble thing and tries to enable the relationship between B and C... it sounded like such a Steve thing to do. Which would lead to predictable... results.
> 
> And since those two idiots never did anything the easy way... my brain could not stop worrying at the question: and what then?
> 
> (Needless to say, that after IW I might kinda want them to be happy... and might want to help that along... just a bit ;) )
> 
> So this fic happened.
> 
> I had fun writing it.
> 
> So I hope you had fun reading it, too ;)


End file.
